


Behind the Helm

by oyasumi_robins



Series: JayTimWeek Fall 2018 [1]
Category: Batman - All Media Types, Batman: Arkham (Video Games)
Genre: ArkhamKnight!Jason, M/M, Stray!Tim
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-11-14
Updated: 2018-11-14
Packaged: 2019-08-23 09:51:35
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 8,877
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16616693
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/oyasumi_robins/pseuds/oyasumi_robins
Summary: Tim Drake, now going undercover as Stray and abandoning his Robin title, has been asked by the Arkham Knight to assist in a heist that, if gone wrong, could mean the end of both of their careers. Can either trust the other enough to keep each other safe?





	Behind the Helm

**Author's Note:**

> JayTimWeek Day Two: Heist!
> 
> Find this story on tumblr and on wattpad under oyasumi-robins~
> 
> Enjoy!

Tim heaves a sigh, turning his new costume around in his hands. Selina watches him with a cool gaze, arm broken and in a sling as she leans against the kitchen counter of her apartment. She tilts her head exaggeratedly to the side, prompting some sort of response from the ex-Robin, to which he doesn’t reply right away.

 

“He pays _well_ ,” is the only response she gets, the smaller man meeting her gaze. He gently places the costume on the counter beside Selina, sliding onto a barstool. She sucks in her cheeks, narrowing her eyes.

 

“I don’t trust him,” she snarls, arm twitching as she was internally debating whether or not she wanted to grab a beer from the fridge. Tim sighed loudly in response, annoyance spreading through his veins.

 

“He isn’t a threat. He’s had more than enough chances to kill me,” Tim countered, spinning a lock of hair distractedly around his finger. Selina shook her head, and turned to the fridge, popping a bottle of beer open with her thumb.

 

“If you say so, Tim. You know to dial us when anything gets out of hand,” she states, giving up as she knew Tim would likely just be stubborn instead, not caring enough to heed her warnings.

 

Arkham Knight was dangerous, and had practically been the cause of Gotham spiraling into a hell no one thought was possible: a hell without the Batman. Now with the police force and only a few other random self-identified ‘vigilantes,’ Gotham was darker than ever.

 

Tim glanced at the costume he wore now, a sense of pride in his new name bubbling up in his chest, a small smile showing on his face as he folded his arms on the counter, resting his chin. He went by Stray now. With Selina’s guidance, he played more closely to Catwoman’s rules than he did Batman’s, and even after all of those years serving as Robin a few months convinced him that he faired better as Stray than he ever did as Robin.

 

Persuasion, seduction, smart quips and carefully thought out contradictions on the tip of his tongue at every hour. Tim’s always been susceptible to change and learning new things; his mind was sharp to begin with. Adapting to this new style of dealing with crime, per se, had been easy. And Tim loved it.

 

Across the apartment, a door unlocked, Harley loudly parading in. Tim jumped in surprise, the clown’s antics still not grown on him yet. Selina smiles in the corner of her mouth, rest of her expression bemused as Harley let herself into the kitchen, throwing multiple money bags to the counter.

 

“And where’d you get this haul?” Selina asks, taking it upon herself to look through all of the bags Harley heaved through the door. Harley happily cackled, spinning around in circles as she doubled back to shut and lock the door.

 

“Justa’ ‘nother deal gone right, Selines!” Harley sang, pulling her pigtails out and shaking her head. Selina’s eyes glistened, obviously pleased with the bags.

 

“How’s Stray treatin’ ya hon?” Harley asks Tim, acknowledging his presence as she got her own beer from the fridge, her free hand traveling through her hair to half-hazardously get the knots out.

 

“Good,” Tim responds plainly, praying that Selina wouldn’t bring up the whole Arkham Knight ordeal, positive Harley would side with her. Selina’s eyes met with his pointedly, definitely reading the expression he’d failed to conceal.

 

“Picked up a new client a month ago, _didn’t_ _you_?” Selina asserted, indirectly doing the exact thing Tim didn’t want her to do. Harley turned to Selina, habitually trying to read her expression—it was a commodity if you were a person with a profession like theirs—as her announcement had been almost entirely monotone as if there was something she wasn’t understanding.

 

Tim sighed, exasperated. “Yes, I did. I’ve been working for him for about a month now...” Tim trailed off, shrugging as if this new client didn’t mean much. Selina pressed further.

 

“And?” She asked, leaning back on her heel with her arms folded.

 

“And he’s the Arkham Knight.” Tim uttered, Harley’s reaction predictable.

 

“The Knight? Why in th’ world are ya workin’ for that loser? _He_ _killed_ _the_ _Bats_ — he’s no good Tim. He might already know who ya are.. You know that—“ Harley rambled, genuinely concerned. The idea of Tim forming connections with the Arkham Knight had been frighteningly alien to her—she hadn’t bothered to even consider what would happen if the Knight’s sights got as far as Stray.

 

“I’ll tell you the same thing I told her,” Tim snapped, sitting up. “He’s had plenty of chances to kill me, and he hasn’t. And he pays well.” Harley huffed, shaking her head. Selina watched the conversation with a stone cold gaze, as she had predicted Harley’s inevitable confusion as well.

 

“Hon— you be careful Mmk? I don’t want nothin’ happenin’ to you alright, sugar-pie? Don’t let that Arkham Knight get the better of you. Stay smart around him,” Harley confided, reaching over the counter to grab Tim’s hand.

 

“I will, Harley. I haven’t let him yet and I don’t plan to.” Tim murmured, holding her hand on his. She gave him a small smile, and left the kitchen in one big flourish to throw herself onto the couch where she’d stay for the rest of the night.

 

Tim glanced at the clock on the microwave. It was four am. He yawned, leaning back on his stool in a stretch, Selina smiling at him lovingly. He was sure Selina took it upon herself to mother him now that Bruce was gone, even though Bruce didn’t really father him to begin with. Tim appreciated the gesture nonetheless.

 

“Mind if I crash here tonight? I don’t feel like driving,” Tim murmured, rolling his shoulders.

 

“Nah, do what you like. But please take what Harley said seriously. You know how people feel about him. You know how _I_ feel about him,” Selina reminded, following Harley into the living room and stretching out in an armchair. Tim curled up with blankets from one of the bedrooms, leaning against the couch.

 

A random comedy was on, Tim absentmindedly watching and being lulled into sleep as Harley cackled softly along with the laugh track, Selina quietly snoring. By the time Tim was half asleep, the tv was turned off, and the three of them passed out.

 

—-

 

Tim yawned, legs kicking at the sheets. It was light out, looked to be midday. Tim took his hand through his hair, bangs interfering with his vision. Selina loved his bangs, stating that he looked much cuter and attractive with his hair longer.

 

He realized later that she meant _both_ as a girl and as a guy, as he suddenly began to ‘excite’ multiple male criminals as Stray. He pondered what the Arkham Knight thought of him. It was obvious that the Knight valued his intel gathering skills, or he wouldn’t have been using him this long.

 

Tim forced himself to his feet, and took a hunt through the house for his phone. He knew he threw it somewhere. He was careful not to disrupt Harley or Selina. Selina was nasty when you woke her up before noon, but it was a good idea not to wake the woman in general. Harley was just too much excitement and energy—being asleep looked much better on her.

 

He glanced at the clock on the microwave. It was 1pm, so technically he could wake Selina if he wished, but did he really want her nagging him about the Knight? No. Speaking of the Knight, Tim wondered if he’d gotten another job. Finally finding his phone underneath the Stray costume, he looked at his unread message.

 

This phone in particular was used solely for the Arkham Knight. He had another phone for all other business deals, but the Knight had given him this one in case it ended up in the wrong hands. He’d been disregarding that phone; Knight was his favorite client at the moment.

 

“5:00 at my meeting lounge. Briefing of an important mission I want you to do” Was all the Knight’s text read. Tim sighed. That meant being ready in about four hours. Tim helped himself to crappy off brand cereal, leaving just enough milk left for another bowl for someone else. He texted the Knight back.

 

“See you there,” was all he responded. He kept the text messages curt and straightforward. Tim was much more of a talking-directly-to-people person, rather than being unable to decode whatever emotions were being conveyed in text. Someone speaking sarcastically could be speaking honestly, and the last thing Tim wanted was for the Knight to misunderstand him. That would be catastrophic.

 

Hours passed, Tim took a shower in the meantime. After he finished, he found Harley and Selina still on the couch and armchair, lazing about. Selina cocked her head back, catching Tim’s eye.

 

“Got a job?” She asked, drowsiness evident in her voice implying she’d waken up only moments before. Tim nodded, snatching the costume off the counter and retreating into a room to quickly change.

 

Tim was on his way out the door in minutes, Harley and Selina mumbling their goodbyes and making him promise to call if something happened. He dismissed them, ignoring their concern and heading out. It was humid and hot outside—Tim’s favorite weather. Emphasis on favorite.

 

He tucked his bangs into the elastic of his suit, not wanting to deal with them later sticking to his forehead. He arrived at the building of the Arkham Knight. He went up the elevator to his suite, lackeys lining the halls and greeting him as he stepped into the room.

 

They stepped forward to search him—this was a rule Knight seemed to take very seriously, Tim realized—but Tim continued to walk past them. They seemed stunned for a second. Knight was leaning against his desk, legs crossed and arms folded. Tim dare defy a rule directly in front of him?

 

“H-hey, we have to—“ a lackey began, voice shaking as he stepped forward to grab Stray’s arm.

 

“He’s fine,” Knight assured, his voice still disturbingly distorted through the voice modifier. Tim grew used to it after awhile, but it was difficult to get used to. Knight didn’t move as Tim stepped forward, and Tim could feel his gaze looking him up and down. Tim could taste the smirk on his lips.

 

Knight didn’t have to hide his emotions because of his helmet, Tim was a different story. He didn’t let it get to him, and cleared his throat.

 

“You said you had something else for me to do?” Tim affirmed, pacing slow circles around the Knight. The Knight’s head followed as Tim walked slowly behind him and around his desk.

 

“A heist. Infiltrate the Penguin’s base of operations. We need a flash drive.” He explained, gaze still following Tim as he appeared in front of him, hand tracing across his desk. Stray stopped beside him, awfully close as he rubbed his fingers together in disgust at the dust that had gathered, directly in front of him. His thigh bumped against the Knight’s as he paced back a foot, popping a hip and crossing his arms in a pose.

 

“Just a flash drive from the main hub? Download as much as possible?” Tim asked, not quite understanding what the purpose of this was. Knight shook his head.

 

“That isn’t your concern. You’re going to accompany me. Back up if things go south.” He explained, pointedly looking Tim’s way, “I will do what I have to with the flash drive. You’ll have my back.”

 

“Awh, you trust me enough not to stab you in the back and take the flash drive for myself?” Tim teased, prompting a reaction from him. The Knight chuckled.

 

“I trust you enough to do what’s right.” He shrugged, brushing it off. He pushed off his desk, clapping his hands together. “You in?” He asked, turning to Tim.

 

“Always, you’re my best client,” Tim smiled sweetly, leaning toward the taller man. He could sense the Knight rolling his eyes through his helm, as he didn’t respond and went into his weapon store.

 

“We leave at midnight, I’ll see you then, Stray,” Knight carelessly dismisses Tim over his shoulder, scanning through his store for weapons. Tim debates whether or not he should bother the Knight or not. His identity was still a mystery after all this time, which still bothered him.

 

He seemed to know a lot about Bruce, knowing every tactic Bruce would try to pull in battle. Highly suspicious. Stray stalked in after the Knight, quietly following him as he walked through his supplies. Knight surprisingly didn’t kick him out either—all he did was acknowledge his presence with a grunt.

 

The lackeys watched in awe. They’ve never seen the boss take in someone in there, and they sure as hell knew Knight longer than Stray knew him. If anything, they deserved the position of ‘going with the Knight into his store.’ They’d ‘worked hard’ to get on his good side.

 

The Knight added a few pistols to his belt, and one gun that could be split in two for easier transportation, reassembling into a shotgun. Tim watched silently, measuring the man’s movements as he suited up. He grabbed a handful of other bombs and explosives, throwing them in multiple pockets of his cargo pants and jacket. He pressed a knife to his thigh, and another to his belt.

 

He turned to Stray, the younger man’s eyes intently watching his hands as they fell to his hips. Stray blinked, quickly readjusting his gaze to the Knight’s helm.

 

“Since you followed me in here and insisted on staring at me—you know where all my weapons are,” Tim nodded, quickly going over for himself what he’d just seen. He had kept track of the weapons, but hadn’t realized it’d been the point the whole time. “I’m going out on patrol. You’re welcome to tag along,” Knight called over his shoulder, ushering Tim out to lock up the room.

 

“I’ll tag along~ might as well see how you fight, hmm?” Tim muses, beginning to trail after him. Knight grunts in response, and turns around, fishing a small device out of his pocket.

 

“Let me see your hand,” he asks. Tim complies, putting his hand out just as he said. Knight takes his wrist and gently turns his hand over, pressing the small device into his palm. “This is a communicator. I was going to give it to you later, but because you insist, place it in your ear. I will be able to communicate to you and if things go south—“

 

“I know how communicators work,” Tim cuts him off, picking up the elastic of the suit by his temple and squeezing the communicator through, placing it in his ear. Tim can sense the Knight rolling his eyes again.

 

Tim smiled to himself cheekily, following the Knight. As it had been a few months of working for him, they’d gotten pretty used to the other’s antics. Tim didn’t want to say he was comfortable around the Knight, even thought it’d almost gotten to that point.

 

Knight could be impulsive at times though, scaring the absolute crap out of Tim. He used guns, and wasn’t afraid to kill. It sent shivers down Tim’s spine. Time and time again Knight had killed, and if he really screwed up, maybe Knight would kill him?

 

Tim dismissed the thought, following the Knight’s lead as he grappled off of a building. This was the first time they were going on a mission together Tim realized. Perhaps it was a good idea he followed Knight on patrol. Got a sense of how he fought, etc etc.

 

“East street.” He hears over the comms, the Knight approximately twenty meters ahead of him. He glances down to Main Street, and off of that he spies East street. Gang of people up to no good, harassing a group of pedestrians. He watches the Knight wrap around the crowd, getting into a position behind them by grappling to a separate building.

 

Tim gets the idea, dropping down in front of the men. Tim’s gaze drops to a wide range of assault rifles and pistols, and he swallows. Guns were never his favorite to deal with. Despite the heights, this had been the hardest thing for him to get over when he first started as Robin. Bullets weren’t exactly easy to dodge.

 

All the men on the street turn in surprise, weapons poised. There are civilians behind them, cowering in fear. But whenever someone in a skin-tight suit appears out of thin air, it is common knowledge to deal with them quickly.

 

All Tim has to do is dodge the first shot, because Knight is already barreling down on the men one by one. He lands on two, making them crumple to the ground. The guns fire in surprise, men pulling the trigger in reaction to the sudden screaming and shouting.

 

Knight knocks the remaining out easily, throwing an elbow to the side of their skulls. Tim slinks past him, Knight shielding him with his arm and covering him as more men came at him.

 

He presses his googles off his head, kneeling down to the sobbing people on the ground. They’re relieved to see a pretty, kind face, heeding Tim as he softly suggests they get out of there. Few of the children tied with rope are bawling their eyes out. Tim realizes the adults weren’t tied up, the kids were, which meant something else entirely.

 

He’s soothing the children as best as he can, cutting their ropes with a pocket knife on his hip. A girl, roughly the age of seven Tim presumed, came running into his arms once her bounds were free. Her small, frail arms wrapped around his neck, trying to find solace in his embrace. Tears puff up her cheeks and trace down her face. Tim pats her back, scooping up the girl in his arms as he stands. Before him is a group of kids all roughly the same age of the girl he was carrying. The adults are nowhere to be found.

 

“What are we going to do?” He senses Knight’s presence at his side, and he turns, boosting the girl in his arms to hold her better. Knight doesn’t reply at first, silent as he looked over these sad-looking kids just sitting on the side of the road.

 

“I imagine you have the commissioner on speed dial?” Arkham assumes, clicking a button on the back of his helmet. He kneels down to be at level with the children. Tim suppresses the urge to gasp. He had no clue what the Knight looked like, and here he was causally popping off his helm in front of him.

 

He quickly made note of all the Knight’s features from the back of his head. Darker, curly hair and tanner skin. His heart jumps when the Knight speaks. The voice modifier was still on, but he was hoping that it was just directly connected to his helmet.

 

“Where are your parents?” He asks, to which they all shrug. None of them respond verbally, too scared to do so Tim presumed. Tim reached down to a small communicator on his belt, sending the commissioner his location. He’d taken this tech from the old bat cave, which reassured Gordon that if he had bat tech, somehow he was related to the bat.

 

Tim stepped forward, curiosity getting the better of him. He needed to see his face. This was the only chance he’d probably ever get to see the Knight’s face, which was because he just decided to be nice to children.

 

To Tim’s dismay there’s a domino mask pressed to his face. Despite the area of his face with the mask, the rest of it is dotted with freckles and scars. He can almost make out one on his cheek, as if it was a symbol or some sort.

 

Knight perks up when he hears the sirens, picking himself up to his feet with a start. One press of a button situates the helmet back over his head. Tim sucks in the inside of his cheek, head tilting as he aimlessly looked into the Knight’s helm, looking for his eyes.

 

“I can’t be here when they show up. I’ll be on a roof a few streets down.” He simply says, grappling off without another word. Tim blinked, the police lights bright and beaming behind him in seconds. Some of the kids cried out, shielding their eyes.

 

Jim runs forward, standing in front of Tim. He rests the small girl on his hip as he turns to the commissioner, the girl past her crying now and very tired. Gordon’s gaze goes from the girl to Tim, and then to the rest of the children.

 

“What happened here?” Gordon asks, the rest of his force filing out of their cars.

 

“Child trafficking I presume.”

 

“And those guys?” Jim asks, gesturing to the men Knight had knocked out minutes before. Tim shrugged in honesty.

 

“Truth be told, I think they were trying to stop it. But you never know.” Jim just nodded reluctantly.

 

“Alright.. then. You want us to get these kids somewhere safe?” Tim gratefully nodded. He placed the small girl he was holding to the ground. She didn’t let go of his hand right away when Jim reached out to her.

 

“It’s okay, he’ll help you sweetheart.” Tim murmured softly, twisting his hand slowly out of her grasp. She nodded slowly and sadly, turning over her shoulder as Jim began to lead her to a police car.

 

“What are you going to do?” Jim asks, his tone changing. He sounded displeased. Tim knew he wasn’t that happy with vigilantes, and would rather have him in jail, so Tim just shrugged in response.

 

“Going to go before you arrest me,” Tim called, grappling off. Gordon just shook his head, he and the rest of his men guiding the children into their police units. Tim circled around to the Knight, who’d been patiently waiting for him.

 

“Took you awhile.” Knight commented, legs dangling off the side of the skyscraper.

 

“Little girl wouldn’t let me go,” Tim chuckled, joining the Knight and sitting down a few feet away. Knight sighs, and turns to Tim, leaning back on his arms.

 

“‘Always liked kids,” He begins, his voice reminiscent. Tim braces himself. A few more hours than he was used to with the Knight, and he was already seeing and hearing things he never imagined he would hear from him. “Families seem so nice.” He sighs, shrugging. Tim can’t help but exercise every question he can think of as Knight is in this sensitive state.

 

“You have a family?” Tim asks, quieting his voice so he didn’t sound too interested. He can sense the smile beneath his helm, and Tim tries not to let anything show on his face at the answer.

 

“Used to. Not anymore.” The reply is simple and short, but the Knight took a few seconds to compile that answer. As if he was picking his words carefully. Tim pointedly raised an eyebrow, but dismissed it in the end.

 

“Shall we get going?” He asks, raising to his toes and throwing his arms behind his head in a stretch. Knight grunts as he too heaves himself to his feet. He presses a button on his arm, a hologram with information Tim knows he shouldn’t be staring at flooding the screen projected off his arm.

 

“It’s a little early, but I don’t see the harm. Other than the scuffle on the street, there aren’t many people out tonight. We’ll go now.” He shuts off the hologram, and takes the lead to Penguin’s head quarters.

 

—

 

“Damn, there’s a lot.” Knight hisses over the comms. Tim diverts his gaze to the crowd below them, heavily armed. Lackeys of the Penguin were everywhere throughout the building. They were in a larger room—one large enough for rafters—surveying their next move.

 

The goal was just to get whatever Knight wanted on the flash drive and leave without a single trace. They didn’t want to cause a scene. Which is probably why I’m here, Tim realized. He was to keep Knight’s impulsive side in check. While he was incredibly smart, more often than once did he act out of emotion. Rumors spread in the crime world.

 

Tim follows the Arkham Knight through a window, scaling to a different floor. “Do you know what floor we need to be on?” Tim asks, his voice’s pitch dropping to a tease.

 

The Knight grunts, “Yeah, that one, but the goal is to avoid people and avoid getting caught.” They stalk through the room, only a few pieces of furniture about the cubicle. Tim blinks, the room far too dark to see properly. Keeping close to the Knight but not too close as to bump into him, Tim adjusts the goggles over his eyes. Much better.

 

Knight peeks his head through the doorway out into a hallway, scanning for possible patrols. It’s eerily quiet. He can hear the Knight breathing only a few feet ahead of him, and he’s extremely self conscious of his footsteps as they continue out into the hall.

 

Knight, with his much longer legs, squats low to the ground and takes long, effortless strides through the hall. Tim follows as quietly as he can, slinking at a fast pace to keep up with Arkham Knight. Tim purses his lips. This particular corridor was extremely long and very narrow. Except for a few rooms, such as the one they’d entered from, there was nowhere to hide. Tim noted that he could probably escape very easily, but Knight, with his bulky armor and staggering height, might have difficulty.

 

Knight suddenly tilted his head to the left, and Tim assumed it was toward the location of what they were looking for. Somehow, they needed to descend another staircase. So far none of Penguin’s men had come across them. This part of the building must’ve been abandoned or something. Tim didn’t see any cameras that could have been observing them.

 

The quiet continued to disturb Stray. They’d followed the hallway into a clearing, a staircase at right and a parlor ahead. The place looked clean and kept well, but also as if it hadn’t been tended to in months. Tim recalled, lips pressed thin, how Alfred would be appalled at the amount of dust on all the furniture. Better not to think of such things.

 

Knight straightened, no longer afraid of getting caught. The coast was clear for now. Neither of them had heard any footsteps other than their own, and there were no lights in this section of the building. Knight spoke first.

 

“The computer we need to get into is directly below this room,” He begins, the volume on the comm very low, “How do you suppose we do that?”

 

“You’re asking me?” Tim murmurs breathlessly, stepping ahead to take a quick look around the room. Knight hums a note of approval at the question, making Tim stutter.

 

“Yeah. You see, my idea is just cut a hole into the ground, jump down, and grapple out. I’m wondering if you think that’s the right way to go about this.” Knight explains, stepping forward and looking down at the ground, presumably directly above the said computer.

 

“Do you expect there to be a lot of baddies down there?” Tim asks, pacing back to where Knight was standing. The Knight shrugs.

 

“Don’t know. Although, Penguin could make a lot of profit off the info on there if sold to the right person.” Knight considers, the tone in his voice shifting. Stray raises a brow. Had he not thought this all the way through? He contemplates ways of asking the Knight on what type of information this was in the most non-discreet indirect way, but nothing comes to him.

 

“What’s on the computer?” He asks straightforwardly. Knight makes a noise—Tim can’t decipher what it was (grunt, choke, etc)—and he knows the Knight is debating whether or not he should share.

 

Tim stops on front of him, prompting him with a hand on his arm. He can feel the Knight tense, if only for a second, under his leather glove. Knight’s voice has no emotion, no opening for Tim to decipher through. It sends a shiver down his spine.

 

“Both of our identities are at risk.” Knight murmurs, not flinching or moving as Tim’s hand tightens around his arm, Tim gasping a sound of confusion before clapping a hand over his mouth. He half laughs. Their identities? How in the world did Penguin get his identity, let alone the Knight’s? Tim’s been observing the Arkham Knight for almost a year at this rate, even before he’d been hired.

 

“Penguin has your identity? How’d you let that slip?” Tim’s voice is accusatory, but he’s joking. The Knight picks up on it, and sighs, annoyed.

 

“Careless mistake. Whatever he has on me, it has something to do with someone you know well.” Knight growls, brushing off Tim’s hand and beginning to pace restlessly about the room. Tim flinches as the Arkham Knight roughly pushes past him, and can’t help but think about Bruce as the “someone” he was referring to. Bruce was the last person he wanted to speak about at all times, and he let the subject drop. He had to forget about the Knight having connections with Bruce. He’d look into that later. He cleared his throat, observing Knight’s restlessness. The more time they spent in this parlor the more likely they were to fail this operation.

 

“We can’t just saw a hole into the ground,” Tim points out, pulling himself together. “Everyone and their mother’d want to know who the Arkham Knight is. Penguin’s likely to have guards.” Knight nods at this statement, reconsidering while his pacing didn’t falter.

 

“We’ll need to be quick. If we can’t get the flash drive off the computer, we can just destroy it worse come to worse.” Knight muses aloud. Tim doesn’t bother asking why he needed the drive. If they just trashed the computer, that’d be the end of it. There really was no reason to have the drive.

 

“Hand me the drive. I’m faster than you are,” Tim offers, putting his hand out. The drive is pressed into his hand without a second of hesitation. “‘Just have to download all the files about Arkham Knight and Stray.” Tim confirms, to which the Knight nods.

 

“Penguin goons aren’t difficult to hold off. I’ll smoke bomb the guys in front, and cover you. The second the files are downloaded, get out of there,” The Knight concludes. “If something goes wrong, shout out.” Tim nods, hand falling to the whip mounted on his hip, readying for a fight.

 

“We’ll reconvene at one of my safehouses. Sending the address to you now.” Tim blinks in surprise as the address pops up onto his goggles.

 

“When did you hack into my-“ Tim begins, before Knight cuts him off.

 

“Don’t worry about that Stray,” He rests a heavy hand on his head. “Good luck.”

 

“Good luck,” Stray smiles back reluctantly, sour that he’d figured out how to hack his systems. The Knight begins quietly down the staircase. They’re greeted by a set of double doors on the fourth level. The computer is on the other side. Both men press to the alternate walls beside the door, peering inside. If your ears were keen enough, you’d pick up on the whispers and breathing and walking on the other side of the wall. Your ears would pick up the guns being readjusted to the right hip opposed to the left, growing uncomfortable to carry.

 

Flashlights lit up the room, unceremoniously swaying about the room, not moving in any specific pattern. Tim peered inside through the window, dodging flashlights as they swept by. They’d gone down multiple stairs, and Tim’s prediction was correct. There were rafters he could easily grapple to. But grappling was loud. He’d still need the Knight’s distraction.

 

“There’re rafters. I’ll grapple up, and then you’ll smoke bomb.” Tim commands. The Arkham Knight grunts in approval. Silently, Knight holds the door open for Tim. Only seconds past before a flashlight catches movement by the door. Tim wastes no time grappling. A shout echoes throughout the large room, and a smoke bomb is deployed.

 

The room erupted into a chorus of shouts and commotion. Predictably, their attention is directed away from Tim, forgetting him for the time being. The computer is in the center of the room. Tim perched atop a rafter, considering his next move. Men on the opposing side of the room are moving towards the threat, leaving that side of the room practically abandoned. He can’t spot the Arkham Knight, but is confident he’s doing well. With the smoke, it was likely all the gunshots were mostly of the men hitting each other opposed to Knight.

 

Tim drops down atop a man, squeezing his neck with his thighs and twisting with his hands until he passes out. After a few more elbows and kicks at men still around the computer, his hands begin to work at the keyboard.

 

“I’m in the computer. Locating info now.” Tim calls.

 

“Hurry it up. More are coming in.” Knight’s voice is strained. He’s getting overwhelmed. Anyone would with seemingly hundreds of men. Tim casts a quick glance over his shoulder at the men pouring in through another set of double doors. At this rate, hundreds of men soon wouldn’t be an overestimate.

 

He’s deciphering through files, spinning around every few seconds to lodge the heel of his boot between legs or at foreheads. Tim spots his name, clear as day: “Timothy Drake-Wayne” He clicks the file and has it downloaded, the flash drive pressed into its side. He’s scrolling now for the Knight’s name. The Knight’s file is jam packed, likely full of deals and trades. He begins to download the entire file. This will take at least two minutes, time that they did not have. He clicks the file, and is scrolling as fast as he can to find something resembling a name.

 

“Any luck? We’re running out of time.” Knight growls, barreling from the other side of the computer and knocking out three men getting ready to jump Stray.

 

“Too many files,” Tim shouts, “Can’t find exact file, taking too long to download.” Knight circles back, stealing a glance at the screen.

 

“I’ll do it. Hold them off.” Tim nods and does a backflip away from the computer, unraveling the whip from his hip. He aims for hands before they can shoot their guns. There are so many it isn’t long before things go down hill.

 

“Too many! Can’t do it!” Tim’s panicked. Penguin never has this many men stockpiled. This was taking too long. If it were Tim, the computer would be trashed 5 minutes ago.

 

“Not done yet— Stray watch out!” Knight shouts over the comms. As Stray was getting more and more overwhelmed, a person with a knife came running at him. This shouldn’t have mattered, except the blade was shockingly sharp and was coated in a a dark, oozing yellow liquid. Poison of some sort.

 

Knight leaped away from the computer, tackling the man beside Tim. As he was careless, a few men fight back at him, freeing their colleague. The knife is thrusted into his thigh, and through the comms Knight lets out a scream of stomach churning rage, sending a punch to the man’s face.

 

Seeing now as the Knight has probably snapped, fear pulses through Tim’s veins. All too suddenly Tim feels his hand go out of place as he sloppily catches a blade. He yowls in pain, blood beginning to pool from his hand. This was getting too much to hand fast.

 

“We need to get out!” Tim shouts over the comms before pressing a button on his helmet to dial Selina. It takes a few seconds for her to pick up.

 

“Tim?”

 

“Deal— gone wrong— need— help—“ He gasps, eyes clouding over with a tint of redas he sends his address to Selina. “Need— ride. Knight— And I— need— medical—“

 

“Harley’s on her way. Hold out for three minutes.” Selina shouts. Tim ends the call, switching back to the comm for the Knight. As he does so, he feels a punch connect to his temple. He goes lightheaded, kicking out the man’s legs from underneath him and stomping his head to the ground.

 

“We need to leave! We have a ride in two minutes!” Tim’s voice is breathless, gasping for air and choking on blood rising in his throat. He can’t see anything, his gaze clouding over more. Don’t pass out. Not now. Not now.

 

He stumbles, and suddenly he’s swooped up. The air’s knocked out of him, and his eye lids get heavy. The Knight’s arm is tight around him, and he grapples out of the room through some window.

 

They squeeze through chaotically, Tim can hear the gunshots ricocheting off of the Knight’s armor, and dazedly prays none hit him. Tim feels a headache coming on as they free fall before Knight grapples to another building.

 

He doesn’t even comprehend that Knight’s holding him closely, to the point where it was heartachingly protective, and his arms were wrapped tightly around the Knight’s figure.

 

A getaway car appears below them. Tim recognizes Harley’s car, and a pitiful sound escapes him as he tries to explain to the Knight that was their escape. Somehow, Knight understands, and Tim gasps as they land on the street, the impact hitting them both hard. Knight throws them both into the backseat, and Harley floors it.

 

“What happened?” She asks, not looking to see who exactly had just piled into her backseat.

 

Tim gasps for air, his consciousness half returning to him. This was bad. He needed to explain before something bad happened. Arkham Knight was not welcome. But Knight doesn’t know that, and answers before Tim can pull himself together to say anything.

 

“Underestimated Penguin’s henchmen. We had to get a flash drive. It’s my fault it went downhill.” Tim cringes at Knight’s distorted voice, apparent to him now that Harley is in the car.

 

“Arkham Knight?” She gasps, fully turning around in her seat, foot still pressed to the gas petal. Her mouth opens to say something, but she stops herself and turns back around to drive. Tim was injured. That was their greatest concern.

 

“S-Stop..” Tim mumbles anyway, in attempt to stop Harley from the outburst that wasn’t going to happen. Knight grabs a rag from the car floor, and presses it to Tim’s temple. It stings, but Tim’s been in pain before. He bites his lip, doing anything and everything he can to keep from passing out.

 

The car flies to a stop, Tim flying forward in his seat, Knight having to catch him before he busts his head on the car seat. Knight drags him out of the car as if he were a rag doll, which Tim certainly felt like, and swoops him up and follows Harley into their apartment building as she bounds quickly up the steps.

 

Selina’s awaiting inside, a bed prepped and covered in towels. She doesn’t flinch as Arkham Knight bursts through the door. She was half expecting him to be the cause of all of this, and even Harley expected it—she just denied herself from believing it.

 

Knight places Tim onto the bed. He was bleeding from a hard punch to his head, his hand was bent at an awkward angle, and there was a gash Tim hadn’t comprehended on his thigh. A gunshot had whisked past him. Overall, he wasn’t mortally wounded.

 

A few minutes passed as Tim began to refocus, chugging down water and bandages wrapped around his skull. He focuses on Arkham Knight’s figure, standing off to the side. Tim knew he was watching him intently, as his helm was directly pointed in his direction.

 

“Y-your... leg..?” Tim asks, his voice airy and distant. Knight doesn’t move. Tim realized that he’s slumped against the wall, and breathing heavily. The comm is still in his ear. He was in pain. The knife, doused in poison that Arkham’d taken the hit from for Tim, was still deep into his thigh. The poison was kicking in. Tim’s eyes flashed as he began to pick up more things about the Knight. He was more beat up than he was.

 

“His leg!” Tim says louder. Harley looks over her shoulder, eyes widening in slight annoyance and surprise. Her eyes meet with Tim’s. Tim’s furious as he realizes she was considering not helping him.

 

“Give him an antidote for god’s sake! He saved my life!” Tim cries. Selina had arrived at the doorway at this point. She glances at Knight, and rushes out of the room for more bandages.

 

“Sit in the chair and remove your armor. We need to tend to that leg of yours!” Harley commands. Knight shakily nods, and is still silent the entire time. Seeing him like this chilled Tim. Why was he acting like he’d just seen a ghost? He looked out of place in general being beat up and bloodied. He’d never seen Knight in this sort of vulnerable state.

 

Knight removes the knife from his thigh, and removes the armor plate awkwardly, having to stand up. He’s wearing work pants beneath his armor, and rashly cuts a hole in his pants where the gash was now fiercely bleeding out.

 

Tim helplessly watches from his bed, stuck there. Selina and Harley wouldn’t dare let him get out of bed. With his hand that hadn’t been broken, he pushed the goggles off his head, letting his bangs fall free to his face.

 

Harley picked up the knife that’d been discarded to the ground and tried to determine the poison that’d been on the knife. The only problem is that it was coated in the Knight’s blood.

 

“Any idea what was on the knife?” Harley asks the room, holding up the knife for both of them to see. Tim shakes his head.

 

Through gritted teeth the Knight growls, “No. Unlike anything I’ve ever seen before.”

 

“I’ll have to do an analysis on the knife..” she trails off, turning to the Knight. “Unless your identity is still so precious to you?” Harley asks, tilting her head to the side. Knight answers her with silence, not responding immediately. Tim gulps.

 

“No,” he chokes, his voice suddenly hoarse. “Do the analysis. I’m already in your debt, Harley.” Tim catches Harley’s micro expression—one she doesn’t bother concealing—and she quickly goes off into the next room to run tests. Once the tests were finished, not only would they determine the new position circulating through Gotham, they’d finally have the Arkham Knight’s identity.

 

Selina, having overheard the conversation, seems unamused as she presses a rag to his leg to stop the bleeding, and begins to wrap other bandages over his other wounds. She’s struggling a little with her arm, now out of her cast, as it was likely hurting.

 

“Why don’t you just tell us who you are now? Why wait? You already know who we are.” Selina’s voice is cold and mean. She makes it clear she doesn’t want him here. He doesn’t respond, but Selina continues to patch him up anyway. He’s removed all articles of armor. Only the domino mask from before is on his face. His arm rested on the arm of the chair, he leans his head on his hand, his knuckle pressing into his cheek.

 

“Later. Not now.” He mumbles. The modifier is still active, and Tim can’t help but wonder what in the world kept the modifier on. Something placed directly in his mouth perhaps? His throat? Was it simply an odd speech impediment?

 

—-

 

Knight’s asleep.

 

Hours have passed, and meanwhile Tim’d been asleep. Despite his hand in a brace and his head and thigh both wrapped, he felt much better. He forced himself out of bed, and walked out of the room where he and Knight were situated. He walked into the kitchen. It was eight AM already.

 

He paced around the kitchen. He wasn’t very hungry. He was worn, and he was in pain. A door clicked, and suddenly Selina came out of the room with all of their tech, yawning and stretching in tire. She’s surprised to see Tim standing there.

 

“Finally up? The data’s come in. While you were asleep, we were able to concoct an antidote, and he’s fine now. He’ll recover.” Tim found himself exhaling in relief, as if he had been holding his breath awaiting the news.

 

“However,” Selina continues, her body language now indicating uncomfortability, “there’s something you may want to see.” Tim frowns. Whatever this was, it couldn’t be good. He follows Selina into the room. Harley is dozing in the chair, drool dripping down her chin. Her lab coat was sprayed with the disgusting yellow liquid and dried blood.

 

Selina reaches over her to the keyboard. Tim watches as images and data compile onto the computer. The yellow poison was reminiscent of some of the more laxative poisons from Scarecrow. This one didn’t compose to fear gas. This one was just strictly fatal.

 

Tim grimaces. The quicker they got rid of all traces of it in Gotham, the better. Such a poison could easily kill a person.

 

“Harley and I were unable to find where this came from. She just recognized some of the chemicals were similar to what was put in his fear gas. We were able to identify all blood samples of what we found on.. him.. using the batcomputer’s records.” It was at this point it dawned on Tim that Selina no longer referred to him as ‘Knight.’ She knew who he was now, didn’t she?

 

Tim went pale.

 

Faces began to appear on the screen. There had been a lot of different people’s blood on the Arkham Knight. He hadn’t realized how much blood had been shed last night.

 

Tim scans the computer as more and more faces appear. No one seems particularly out of place. Selina’s gaze is glued onto him. She’s waiting for him to notice something. Tim’s anxiety heightens. Arkham Knight probably wasn’t just anyone.

 

Arkham Knight was..

 

Tim’s eyebrow raises, as a red profile flashes on the screen. The rest had been bright blue. The mugshot of the person in the profile had a bright red slash through it. The slash read “deceased”...

 

“H-how is that..? He died, so how— Is he that...” Tim trailed off. Selina shook her head and crossed her arms. Her face was pained. She looked like she didn’t believe it either.

 

The deceased profile belonged to Jason Todd.

 

It all made sense. Ex-Robin who died to the Joker years ago. How else would someone know so much about Batman? About Bruce? But this begged a greater question. How the hell was he alive, and why had he been so nice to Tim?

 

“I’m going to talk to him.” Tim decides, turning on his heel.

 

“Tim, you can’t—“ She tried to call him off, but cuts off short. She’s too late anyway. Tim gapes, face to face with the person in the doorway. But that person isn’t looking at him. His dark, blue-green eyes are secured to the screen behind Tim, reading his own name with the word ‘deceased’ printed on his bright, shining smile from when he was a kid.

 

The room is silent, albeit Harley’s loud snoring. Jason leans against the door frame, putting all of his weight on his other leg. Selina and Tim stay quiet. No doubt, the man standing in front of them corresponded to the kid in the picture.

 

“Do you mind if I talk to Stray alone?” His voice startles both Tim and Selina, even though they’d been waiting for him to say something for easily a few minutes. His voice was shockingly soft, and much higher than Tim had thought. But what was he expecting? No one’s voice could naturally drop to the intensity of his voice modifier. Jason’s gaze meets Tim’s.

 

Tim looks at his feet. “There’s a balcony off the living room.” He offers. Jason boosts himself off the wall, and Tim reluctantly follows Jason off onto the balcony. The glass door slides shut behind them.

 

“Are you confused? Surprised?” Jason asks, leaning off of the railing of the balcony. Tim crosses his arms as best as he can, heeding to his hand. He leans against the railing, and shakes his head.

 

“I think... I always knew,” he murmurs, gaze landing on the “J” burned into the man’s face. “I just.. didn’t think it was true.”

 

“For awhile, I didn’t think about him. I didn’t want anything to do with him after he went away,” Jason sighs, taking his hand through a white tuft of hair. “But then crime trade got too difficult. I needed a second hand. Someone to help hold the weight I held. I overheard talk about a new person in town. Someone phenomenal at gathering intel. Someone who’d done many successful deals with the Penguin and so many others. I was intrigued.” Jason turns toward Tim, his eyes bearing into his soul.

 

Tim wishes he had his helm on. He didn’t want to see Jason. He didn’t want to see his emotions. He didn’t want Jason to say what he’d been thinking all along. From the moment he’d been hired the first time... Jason continued his story.

 

“I hired you. I met you for the first time. You were perfect. Just what I needed to keep me in line,” Jason chuckled at that, and shook his head, “But I had to know who you really were, just in case. So I followed you after your first job.”—Tim raised a brow at that—“And then I realized you were Robin. You were the kid who took my place. After—“ Jason cuts off, shaking his head at himself. He kept avoiding bringing Bruce up at all in conversation. His name was poison on his tongue.

 

“So I kept hiring you merely to keep an eye on you. You were perfect, yes, but my grudge still stood. But then.. I realized.. you were different from what I’d first imagined.” Jason stood straight up, and took a few paces toward the smaller man. Tim stood his ground, and raised his head to be eye level with Jason. He was inches away.

 

Jason’s breath stills, and he goes silent. Tim can recognize the emotion in his eyes. It’s reflected in his own, and for some reason it doesn’t disgust him.

 

“Stray— Tim. Will you please be my second command?” Jason’s voice is a whisper. Tim opens his mouth to say something, but he can’t speak. He can’t say anything. Jason’s warm, calloused hand find his arms.

 

His arms, bloodied and bruised, feel safe in Jason’s hands. A calming euphoria passes over him, and it’s so weird. It’s strange. It’s vulgar. Words find their way to his lips.

 

“Of course I will.” Tim whispers back softly. Jason’s expression doesn’t change—the emotion in his eyes doesn’t change—and Tim feels Jason’s thumbs press into his arms in soft circles.

 

“Thank you,” Jason breathes. He leans forward, and presses his forehead against Tim’s. Tim’s still, sharing Jason’s breath with deep inhales as he’s processing what’s happening.

 

His hands fidget. His hand gingerly gropes at Jason’s shirt, and Tim pulls Jason closer before he can comprehend himself doing so. Jason’s breath hitches, and his head dips forward like Tim wanted.

 

The kiss is brisk. It’s quick, and it’s sour, and it’s bliss, and it’s bittersweet. It’s all of those things compiled messily together. Jason backs off after a few seconds. Tim claps a slow hand over his mouth. He’s shaking. He needed to go inside.

 

Tim slid open the glass door, and slammed it shut behind him. Selina comes running out of the computer room to confront Tim. He collapses into a chair at the bar, and a sense of deja vu washes over him as he had just been sitting in this chair a few days ago, Selina directly in front of him and demanding some sort of answer.

 

“You were out there for awhile. What did he say?”

 

“He explained himself. He made it obvious he doesn’t have any ill intentions towards any of us. He made it clear he would’ve dealt with us already if we got in his way.” Tim murmurs. He leaves out the part where he’s now his second command, and that he may or may not of initiated a kiss with Jason Todd, and said man had kissed him back.

 

Selina doesn’t say anything. She buys it, and walks away into another room. Tim’s half-relieved that their conversation didn’t drag on. But now things just got complicated.

 

Arkham Knight, better known as Jason Todd, was now his boss. The same man who had a vengeance to kill him just months ago. The same man who just _kissed_ him.

 

Tim slumped to the bar.


End file.
